


Restless Baking Syndrome

by SolarMorrigan



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Skyfall - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Q doesn't even bother with sleep hygiene, probably unhealthy sleep schedules
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 05:10:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11029317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolarMorrigan/pseuds/SolarMorrigan
Summary: The quartermaster of MI6 does not talk to cats or bake cupcakes or dance around in his pajamas. He is a professional.Just plain Q is another story altogether.





	Restless Baking Syndrome

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a fill for [this](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/797717.html?thread=102471445#t102471445) comment_fic prompt

Bond and Q had spent more than a handful of nights together by the time Bond became aware of Q’s habit. He might have found out sooner, but more nights had been spent at Bond’s flat—closer to MI6—than at Q’s, and most nights had been spent categorically wearing one another out.

It was just that Q didn’t tend to sleep through night, even after enthusiastic activity in bed, and though he had attempted to at least lie still the first few times he’d woken beside Bond—not an altogether unpleasant feeling at all—he had grown restless quickly and that was when Bond began waking in the middle of the night to find Q keeping himself busy. At Bond’s flat, it was always bouts of coding and hacking, or even a few computer games, Q’s laptop never far from his person; Q had apologized the first few times for waking Bond, but it soon became clear that the agent needed only to ascertain that nothing was amiss and would go back to sleep. It was an easy balance.

Then they began spending nights at Q’s home.

In his own territory, Q had access to his home workshop, and Bond quickly accustomed himself to the sounds of tinkering in the night. He expected the sound of a soldering iron or the clink of metal on metal (on one particularly difficult night, Bond had been alarmed to wake to the sound of welding, and it had been agreed upon that Q should save that particular activity for waking hours). What Bond hadn’t quite expected was the night he woke to the sound of Q pottering about in the kitchen.

Never able to suppress his urge to do a quick sweep of the house to ensure everything was well, Bond slid from beneath the sheets and moved as silently through the rooms as the feline inhabitants of Q’s home. Bond fully expected Q to be taking a break and making a quick cup of tea, and so was somewhat bemused to find his lover in the throes of some sort of baking endeavor, synchronizing his movements to the beat of whatever was pumping through his headphones.

Flour, sugar, cocoa powder, salt and the like lined the counter while Q whisked away at something in a mixing bowl, shaking his hips to his music, happily unaware that Bond was standing in the doorway. Bond debated alerting Q to his presence, but instead just took a moment to look his fill. At work, Q always had sparks in his eyes and a certain frenetic energy beneath his skin, but his movements were controlled, his voice smooth, his demeanor calculated to project authority and competence. No matter how good Q was at his job, he would be proving himself for years to come. But at home- at home, Q laughed at his own terrible jokes and talked to his cats and danced around to whatever music struck his fancy and ranted at anything sitting still (human, feline, or appliance) about any subject that flittered across his mind.

This was a Q Bond relished in seeing, in being allowed to see, but had no desire to interrupt. He watched for as long as he thought he might get away with, a gentle smile stealing across his face, before he returned to bed. Q was always happy to show the fruits of his labor to Bond in the morning, prompted or not.

When Bond woke again, this time to the light of day, Q was dozing beside him and the house smelled wonderfully of some chocolate confection. Slipping again from bed, Bond padded into the kitchen to find a covered container of chocolate cupcakes, each decorated with perfectly piped buttercream frosting; a sticky note atop the container invited Bond, in Q’s spidery handwriting, to help himself.

They were fantastic.

Q stumbled into the kitchen a short while later, tripped up by insistently hungry cats and drawn in by the sound of the kettle whistling. Bond offered him a mug and asked if they would be dining on cupcakes for breakfast.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Q yawned, “We should at least pair them with fruit.”

“Very wise.” Bond grinned, “You are an excellent baker, though.”

Q’s usual imperious expression was lost in a haze of sleepy affection. “You needn’t be so surprised. Baking is simply chemistry. Though rather more forgiving than mixing volatile compounds.”

Bond supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised, but allowed himself the novelty of it, anyway.

The cupcakes that didn’t serve as breakfast made their way into Q branch and were demolished within an hour, thus solving the mystery of the occasional baked goods in Q branch’s tiny break area.

It was true that Bond needn’t have been surprised at this point, but with Q, he allowed the surprises to persist. He could never be sure where Q would turn up in the morning and he never tried to guess; some nights were spent at the computer, and some at the worktable, but Bond quickly decided his favorites were the ones spent in the kitchen, giving way to cookies and muffins and scones and strudel and sweet rolls and whatever else struck Q’s fancy at odd hours. Bond had never considered himself one for sweets, but he suspected Q would convert him, yet.

He found he didn’t mind the idea at all.

**Author's Note:**

> I night bake. Have done for years. You're awake at 2 AM and you're not tired at all and the kitchen's there and you're just like, "Why the fuck not?" and then cupcakes happen. I figure if Q stays up at night programming and hacking and inventing, he can stay up at night baking, too
> 
> (Also, bipolar Q. I'm just throwin' it out there.)


End file.
